Heart of Rivendell
by Lydwina Marie
Summary: Elrohir had never expected to feel anything but brotherly affection for Calassë. But then, he had never expected her to reciprocate his sentiments when at last he dared to articulate them.
1. Challenges

**2507 T.A.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Challenges

It was early dawn, the clouds transcendent against the glow of the fading stars, but the sun had not risen yet. A faint dew lay upon the emerald sward, caressing the yet-closed flowers and shining on the green leaves as they swayed in the gentle wind. The faintest echo of a song strove to pierce the silence, lilting, carried on the wind and melding with the cheerful tweeting of the birds.

A giggle, soft in the morning silence but challenging nonetheless, pealed through the air. Another answered it, and footsteps crunched lightly over the new fallen leaves. Two figures slipped through the underbrush, one dark-haired and tall, the other crowned with flowing chestnut tresses. Again they laughed together, heedless of all else about them, while high in the branches of a mighty oak, a squirrel watched them pass with beady eyes.

The ellon stopped quite suddenly, drawing his companion to a halt as well. "Here, Calassë!" he said laughingly. "I dare you, do it here!"

The maiden turned a devilish face upwards, her eyes sparkling with the competition. "You are trying to make it easier for yourself, are you not, Elrohir?"

Elrohir grinned. "Not at all. I am going easy on you, for I know you cannot do it."

She cocked her head. "Oh, indeed? What do you wager?"

Elrohir thought a moment. "Elladan's honey cakes at dessert tonight."

She reached out a hand. "I will hold you to this, _my lord_."

The two Elves stood now upon a ledge of overhanging stone, looking out over the valley of Imladris spread at their feet. Sparkling waterfalls fell with a crash and a roar upon the mossy stones below, sending up a misty spray to coat the low-hanging branches of the budding trees. In the midst of the valley, set against the high cliff itself, lay the Last Homely House, breathtaking in its exquisite architecture and many elaborately carved balconies. Even now, despite having dwelt in Imladris for over two millenia, the Elves could not quite believe the ethereal beauty of the home they had always known.

Noticing the drawn-out pause, Elrohir smirked. "There is still time to back out, you know."

She glared balefully. "And cede the game to you? Never!"

As if to assert her intentions of carrying out the dare, she crouched down and set her boot-clad foot on the first foothold she could find. The sun's rays glinted on her deep brown hair, and captured the glint in her eyes as she returned her best friend's smile. "See?"

"I do," Elrohir replied, not fazed in the least. "And I will be waiting for you at the House."

With a merry wave of his hand, he turned and sauntered back down the cliff path. Calassë grinned after his retreating figure. He thought she could not do it - she knew it!

She spared a glance downwards, and discovered that not to be a good idea. The valley floor seemed so far away... such a long fall, she cogitated, but pushed the thought out of her head before it could take root.

She lowered herself to another rock, gripping the firm stone firmly between strong fingers. Daughter of High Elves as she was, what terrors could a mere cliff hold for her? She snorted. Her parents would not agree, of this she was certain. They treated her like a porcelain vase, for Valar's sake!

Calassë had dwelt in Imladris for all the years of her life, and had shown a tendency towards mischief and pranks from the start. Her childhood companions had been the twins, and with them she had sat for hours, concealed in the masking shadow of some secluded bushes, plotting sadistic plots that would make Maeglin himself blush for shame. Even as she grew up, Elladan and Elrohir had been her constant companions, for she enjoyed their presence over that of a dozen prattling ellyth. Her head rang at the mere thought.

She continued to make her way precariously downwards, clinging to the rock projections as though they were her one hope of survival - which was not really so far from the truth. The spray of the cascading waterfalls blew around her, like the crescents of dancing waves upon the sea. The sun shone brightly, reflected through the transcendent face of the tumbling waters, catching her in its embrace and warming her as she continued to descend towards the valley far below.

An hour later Calassë set foot upon the ground, her lips curving upwards in a pleased grin. Despite being sweaty, hot, and tired, she could not beat down the feeling of utter glee that pervaded her entire being. This had been Elrohir's biggest challenge so far, and the thought that it had taken so little of her normal buoyancy was strangely exhilarating. Already her mind was turning over ideas for her dare, each one more evil than the last.

"Calassë!" A familiar voice floated about the edge of the cliff and Calassë whirled just as Elrohir strode up to her.

"Oh!" he stammered uncertainly. "I did not... well, that is..."

"Yes?" she replied, a little too sweetly. "What did you expect, Elrohir? To find me dashed to bloody pieces upon the rocks? Clinging to my handhold in a quivering ball of terror? Hmm?"

"Not at all!" the Peredhel defended himself. "I have the utmost faith in your climbing abilities. If I did not, I would not have challenged you thus."

Calassë raised a single, expressive eyebrow. "Really, Elrohir? Sometimes I think you live to see me hurt."

"You are a feather-brained elleth then," Elrohir teased, taking a suggestive step towards the House. "Shall we go in?"

"Why, certainly." Calassë followed him triumphantly. "Oh, and Elrohir, remember the honey cakes."

Elrohir stifled a sigh. "Of course."

"You did _what_?" Calassë's mother gazed incredulously at her daughter. "And with _whom_?"

"I went climbing - rock climbing, Naneth," Calassë explained, for the fifth time, in a placating tone. Then her eyes narrowed. "Actually, I suppose it was more cliff climbing, seeing as it was a cliff. But never mind."

The older elleth heaved a sigh. "Calassë, how many times have I told you not to run around with the Peredhil twins? You have grown up, child! You should be spending your time educating yourself and cultivating lasting friendships with sensible..."

Calassë's gentle sigh went unheard by her indignant mother, and the young elleth tuned out the reprimands. If she had heard them once, she had heard them a thousand times.

"... unseemly... raising rumours..."

Calassë's stomach grumbled. Her mother's head jerked up, and Calassë swiftly met her gaze with a pathetic smile.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Forgive me, Naneth," Calassë murmured. "I have not eaten since the morning, tis all."

The older elleth sighed and waved her hand dismissively. "Go then, iell-nín. But think on what I have said, I beg you."

Calassë inclined her head in relief. "Hannon le!"

Backing quickly out of the room, she broke into a trot once she was well out of her mother's hearing, making her way unconcernedly towards the dining hall. Faint voices echoed through the silent hallway, and she grinned as she recognised Elrohir's pleading tone intermixed with Elladan's insistent tenor. Pushing the door open, she walked nonchalantly in, ignoring the twins as they sat alone at one end of the dais.

"But El, please..."

"No!" Elladan sounded horrified and certainly unaccommodating. "Why on _earth_ would I give you my honey cakes?"

Calassë smirked to herself, raising her eyes innocently to find Elrohir glaring at her. "What are you two arguing about?" she asked sweetly.

Elrohir sighed heavily. "As though you didn't know," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. Then his eyes lit up with a light Calassë had seen many times before. "I can steal Glorfindel's!"

" _Elrohir!"_ Elladan and Calassë exclaimed simultaneously. The seneschal was rather overprotective of his honey cakes – giving birth to the notion that he treasured them tenderly in his chambers – and Elrohir was sure to be found out. "You will be killed!" Elladan added unnecessarily.

"Aye, I know," Elrohir said heavily, fixing Calassë with a glare. "I hope your nights are haunted by guilt-filled nightmares, for I _thought_ you were my friend."


	2. Blackmail

**A/N: Goshy, I was quite shocked by the reaction to the first chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who left a review or favourited and followed, especially daughterofthechief who was the one who inspired me to start writing this again. (Yes I did see your review, and I will think about the story suggestions!)**

 **Oh, and I thought I would just clarify that the twins are only just over two thousand in this chapter. (I thought poor Elrohir might get some criticism for what he does, so being naturally protective of those I love, I thought I would make that clear.) And in mortal years that is quite young, so hehe but he has an excuse.**

 **I hope you enjoy this!**

 **2508 T.A.**

 **Chapter Two**

"Elrohir?"

An incoherent mumble was the only response Elladan received, followed by a long and lasting silence. His younger brother lay sprawled on his bed in the darkness of the evening, head covered by an unnecessary amount of pillows, legs kicking absently in the air. Elladan fixed his eyes on an arm that poked from beneath a pillow, grinned, and rose to his feet. Like a cat he stalked across the room, slinking past the half open door like a skulking shadow, and pounced.

A muffled scream echoed through the hallway. Erestor paused once, recognised the voice, and went on with his work.

"So, brother," Elladan said pleasantly from his perch on his brother's back, "why did you really want Glorfindel's cakes? I know you are not hungry. You are never hungry. That is why you are so thin." He poked Elrohir's sides for special effect, relishing in the prompt yelp. Elrohir never failed him.

Elrohir struggled to turn to face him, managed to get halfway onto his side, and gave up, glaring. "That is a lie!"

"Oh no, it is not."

His glare deepened. "Fine. I do not eat an unhealthy amount, as do some – " Here he paused pointedly; " – but I eat. I swear I eat. That is why I want the cakes. I want to eat them. Really." He sighed inwardly. All this swearing and hedging was getting on the raw side of his nerves. Calassë would suffer.

"You are not going to tell him, are you?" Rather than resorting to pleading, he narrowed his eyes threateningly, meeting his brother's laughing grey gaze and promptly panicking. "You will not, will you?"

Elladan paused, ego swelling at the rather sick smile that painted Elrohir's features. "Well... I do not know. He does love them, and he might think I took them... some confirmation of the true offender might not be amiss."

Ten minutes later, Elrohir trickled into the kitchens, finding them completely empty as he had anticipated at the late hour. As he wove his way unsteadily around the obstacle course of chairs and tables, he hoped that the emptiness of the kitchens would not extend to the larder.

As it happened, it did not, and thirty minutes later Elrohir was skulking upstairs, a tray overflowing with honey cakes clutched in his hands. He paused outside Elladan's door to finish chewing on the last bite of a pilfered pastry, and kicked on the door to announce his arrival.

Elladan appeared at the door drying his hair with a towel. He gazed upon the proffered tray with a smile of pure bliss. "I believe this lets you off the hook," he remarked pleasantly, taking the tray and laying it carefully on the bed. "I hope you have some for Calassë as well. I think she was going to visit Glorfindel at some point this evening."

Elrohir sighed and glared, his frown intensifying as Elladan approached him and patted his shoulder.

"What a trial," his older brother said sadly. "Surrounded by blackmailers, right and left. I assure you, you do not suffer alone."

"You are dripping all over my feet," Elrohir objected, retreating towards the door and concealing a few honey cakes behind his back. "But you are right about the blackmailers. This place is simply _swarming_ with them."

He kicked the door shut behind him and made his way back towards his own room. Setting aside four of Elladan's honey cakes for himself, he put the other three into a small box and scribbled something onto a piece of paper. With a long-suffering sigh he departed his room again and made his way to Calassë's door. With a baleful glare at the unoffending wood, he slid the box carefully underneath and then let out a muffled yelp as he straightened up and bumped into a tall figure behind him.

"Adar!" His cheeks flamed as he realised how this must appear to his father. "Er..." He giggled foolishly. "Pleasant evening, no?"

"Oh, yes," Elrond agreed drily. "And a very late one, at that." He paused a moment, and Elrohir shifted his weight to his left foot and giggled again, for lack of anything better to do. "Might one ask what you were doing in Calassë's room?"

Elrohir whirled and gazed at the door with a desperate attempt at nonchalance. "Is... is this Calassë's room? How funny... I... er, I thought it was... yours?"

"Quite a remarkable coincidence, is it not, that the doors look so alike," Elrond said slowly. "But I would have thought that after two thousand years you would have realised that my room is on the other side of the House."

Putting a fatherly arm around Elrohir's shoulders, he steered him firmly in the opposite direction. "I think there are a few things you may want to tell me, _ion nín_."

* * *

Elrohir wriggled on the couch as Elrond turned from his dressing table, a crystal glass of sparkling red wine in his hand. His father took his time swirling the liquid about in the glass, paying no heed to his fidgeting son as he took a seat on the opposite chair. Leaning back, he crossed his legs and gazed unrelentingly at Elrohir over the rim of the glass as he took a slow sip.

"So," he said at last. "A-courting do we go?"

"No!" spluttered Elrohir in horror. "What a ridiculous prospect! Absolutely stupendous!"

"That does not mean what you think it means," Elrond said helpfully. "But enlighten me. What were you doing outside Calassë's door at a few minutes to midnight?"

"I remember when I was a child," Elrohir said pleadingly.

"So do I," Elrond said cryptically. "Hard to forget. Your point being?"

"Well... I would get into trouble and you would tell me not to explain because you hate long stories..."

"My tastes have changed," Elrond countered with a heartless smirk. "And as it is rather late, I suggest that you begin this long story immediately."

Elrohir sighed for a long time, but his father showed no signs of pity. "I lost a wager," he said uneasily.

Elrond's eyebrow began to rise. "A wager? With whom?"

"Calassë," Elrohir said, and blushed as Elrond grinned.

"What a pity. But that still does not explain what you were doing outside her room."

"I was settling the wager!"

"I am still not receiving any explanation," Elrond murmured, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Very well. Go to your room and try to stay inside it for the rest of the night, will you? I will expect you in my study at noon."

* * *

Elrohir arrived late to the training fields the next morning, as a result of his largely sleepless night. He could hear Glorfindel's shouts long before he reached the fields, and as he approached, the familiar sight made him grin. The warriors were practicing archery; they stood at one side of the field while Glorfindel stood halfway down on one side, yelling out orders. Elrohir could not help but chuckle at the terrified looks on the archers' faces, their nervousness causing most of them to miss their shots.

Hearing Elrohir's laugh, Glorfindel whirled towards the bushes where he stood concealed, and at the threatening look on his trainer's face, Elrohir slowly approached. "You laugh, elfling?" Glorfindel demanded brusquely. "Come forward and exhibit to me the accuracy of your aim!"

Elrohir had been trying to break his habit of giggling whenever he was uncomfortable, but at this point he relapsed. After a few seconds of nervous chuckling, he dropped his cloak at Glorfindel's feet and stepped forward, unstrapping his bow from his shoulder and moving to the center of the field. Slowly he nocked an arrow and took aim, pausing for a split second before he released. The arrow flew, straight and true, and thudded into the exact center of the target.

Glorfindel strode to the target and yanked the arrow out with some difficulty, slipping it into his belt and returning to his post. "Lucky shot," he snapped. "Try again."

This time, the draw of the bow strained his muscles, and he could not hold his arms quite steady. He released, not waiting to see where the arrow landed, then nocked another in one fluid movement and loosed that also. The first landed just outside the first circle, and the second split the first.

With a sigh, Elrohir lowered his bow and waited for the verdict. Glorfindel waited to speak until he had retrieved the arrows, and then he approached Elrohir.

"Not bad," he said critically, handing the Peredhel his arrows. "You are not holding your arms steady, and you were not relaxed as I taught you. Also, you are late."

"I slept late, and I cannot stay long," Elrohir said, uncomfortable under his mentor's scrutiny. "I have to meet with Adar at the nooning."

Glorfindel glanced upwards at the passage of the sun, and smiled in satisfaction. "Just time enough for some sword practice, I am afraid. Elcúron!" He motioned with his finger at one of the Elves standing behind them, and the approaching Elf smiled at the younger twin as he loosened his sword in its sheath.

"Elrohir on the offensive. Elcúron, defend. And you two will be training with wooden swords for a fortnight if you do as badly as last time."

Elrohir groaned at the memory and fell in at Elcúron's side as they moved to the center of the field. The two Elves drew their swords and assumed fighting stances, waiting for Glorfindel's command.

"And – begin!"

They moved so swiftly, it was as though a flash of sunlight melded with another and became two again only as the swords clashed together. They separated, circling each other for a brief moment before Elcúron's sword swept upwards, towards Elrohir. The Peredhel parried the blow neatly before leaping to one side as his opponent's blade skewered the air where he had just been standing.

Elrohir returned the initial attack and pressed closely on Elcúron, but he was not as skilled with the sword as he was with the bow, and Elcúron drove him back a few steps before Elrohir managed to regain his offence. They stepped back, eyeing each other closely, until the tension of the moment was broken as Elrohir leaped forward upon Elcúron, bearing him back so he nearly fell. The other Elf regained his balance just in time, though, and now the Elves whirled so fast, their swords like a flash of light against the blue sky, that Glorfindel could not tell which was which.

Then it all happened so fast that there was nothing but a blur as Elrohir stumbled and landed on his face in the dirt as Elcúron knelt on him, one knee pressed into his back.

Elrohir groaned into the dirt, releasing the hilt of his sword. "I am having a very bad day," he muttered to himself. "And Elcúron, I hardly appreciate that you are breaking my spine with your incredible weight."

"I apologise," Elcúron said easily, a grin colouring his voice as he shifted about on Elrohir. "It must be the honey cakes I had last night."

Elrohir turned his head with difficulty and glared at his friend. "Very funny. Did Elladan tell you about that? Or was it Calassë, or even Glorfindel? I cannot believe this! My own friends turn against me as soon as my back is turned!"

The pressure on the small of his back finally eased as Elcúron got to his feet, holding out a hand to help Elrohir up. "It would be dangerous to others, not only myself, if I were to say who my informant is," he grinned. "But I can tell you that the entire Imladris Guard was laughing over it this morning."

* * *

Calassë only noticed the small box just inside her door when she was leaving her room for breakfast late that morning. It was with a smile that she smelled the aroma of fresh honey cakes, and with an even wider grin that she recognised Elrohir's handwriting on the paper on top. Taking a bite of one of the pastries, she unfolded the paper and burst out laughing as she read the one word written inside.

 _Rat._


	3. Word from Lorien

**A/N: I can't remember if I've already said this, but in case some of you have read Lalaith Elerrina's** _ **Lalaith Elerrina: Child of the Stars,**_ **her Elrohir is in love with an elleth named Calassë as well. I do have permission to use the name, and if you haven't read her trilogy yet you should definitely do it, because it is absolutely fantastic. It's mainly a Legolas romance set during the War of the Ring, but both the twins are in love, and so are Glorfindel, and Haldir, and Aragorn, so it is definitely worth a read.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **2509 T.A.**

 **Chapter Three**

Word from Lorien

* * *

Darkness came early to Imladris in those summer evenings. The trees shed prematurely, and the leaves fell and lay trampled in the mud. Orcs were spotted on the eastern patrols towards the Pass of the Hithaeglir, and word came from Mirkwood of an evil presence deep within the trees. Glorfindel now trained his warriors rigorously, uncertain where the danger lay but recognising it all the same.

Seeking council, Elrond called on Lórien, and early in the fall a troop of Galadhrim arrived in Imladris, heralding the coming of their lord and lady. Their faces were grim as they spoke of the contingents of Orcs crossing the lands between the old city of Hollin and the Golden Wood.

"If Sauron has risen again, warning must be sent out," Elrond said as he paced the council room. "We must not let our allies be taken unawares."

"Sauron?" Glorfindel turned from the window, his eyebrows raised. "But these assaults do not suggest a Dark Lord's hand. If Sauron were indeed ordering these attacks, we would have felt it far worse."

"I do not believe this is the work of some Orcish chieftain," Elrond said, and his voice was certain. "I sense a far greater evil than that. If Sauron has returned, we must assume that he has found his Ring, or that he at least has some knowledge of its whereabouts."

"Save your forebodings for your mother-in-law!" Glorfindel said drily. "Let us assume the worst only when the worst has come."

* * *

Elrohir fidgeted under his heavy robes, grateful that his strategic position behind his mother ensured his safety from her eagle eye. Beside him, Elladan shifted uncomfortably, trapped likewise in clothing reminiscent of the bitterly cold winter of 2492. The one catch here was that it most decidedly was not winter, let alone a freezing one, as proven by the glinting sun and the budded trees. Dropping his gaze downwards, Elrohir noticed with interest that the grass itself seemed to be sweating. He nudged his twin and pointed out the wonder in an undertone, so Celebrian would not hear. (Sweating was one of those unspeakably inappropriate topics to be avoided before mothers.)

"'Tisn't sweating nearly as much as I am," Elladan muttered lowly, but Celebrian heard all the same.

"Elladan?" She turned about, eyebrows raised in a glorious imitation of her husband's. "If needs must, we refer to the ejaculation of heat-turned-liquid through the pores as _perspiring_." Elladan nodded apologetically, but Celebrian was not yet done. "As you no doubt know, your daernaneth and daeradar are coming to discuss some very serious business. You are to make no problems whatsoever."

Elrohir managed to look more than slightly insulted. "It is not as though we will be going anywhere near them anyways," he murmured under his breath, and exhaled loudly with an angelic smile when his mother turned back to them. "We will wreak no havoc and smash no plates," he swore, hand on his heart. "Word of honour."

Celebrian did not look convinced, but then the clatter of hooves sounded outside the gates and she was forced to cede to him. Elrohir adjusted his robes, which were drooping halfheartedly off one shoulder, and straightened up to greet his grandparents – his grandmother, in particular.

"Prepare to have your mind raided," he mouthed to his twin as the Lórien troupe rounded the curve into the courtyard. He eyed his grandmother as she dismounted and embraced her daughter and son in law, hoping she would not feel obliged to kiss the tip of his nose and ask how his pet squirrel was doing. He grimaced, for the memory of the bloody end of his poor pet was painful.

Then both grandparents were advancing towards him and Elladan, and they both managed to smile a little sickly as they fought against the instinctive urge to retreat towards the sanctuary of the House. After ten minutes of embraces, kisses, and false reassurances that Elrohir's squirrel was very well indeed, the twins had fled to their shared suite and watched the commotion in the courtyard from their safe perch in the window.

"I wonder how long they will stay," Elladan commented to no one in particular, nose pressed to the window pane.

"Do not ask," Elrohir advised, with an air of wisdom drawn from much experience. "Naneth will get that warning look in her eye and then she and Adar will tell Daernaneth and Daeradar how much we have been looking forward to their visit, and they will stay longer than ever. The saddest part about it is seeing our parents lie."

Elladan grimaced, changing the subjects. "About the Orcs – do you think it really is serious?" Elrohir shrugged, and Elladan bit his lip. "I heard Adar and Glorfindel talking, and..." He trailed off, looking up only when Elrohir nudged him.

"What did they say?"

"Adar thinks it might be Sauron," Elladan said, feeling a little guilty at revealing the illicit knowledge.

Elrohir's eyes widened. "What does Glorfindel think? What do _you_ think?"

"I do not think Glorfindel agrees," Elladan replied, a little hesitantly. "And I do not know what to think. I only know that there are more Orcs crossing the lands than there were in the last hundred years. I am not sure if there is reason to think that there is any more to it than that."

The last of the Galadhrim disappeared inside the House and Elrohir shifted around with a sigh. "I suppose that is why Glorfindel has been working us so hard in training. I think my legs might be permanently damaged."

Elladan's customary cheer returned and he shoved Elrohir's shoulder with a grin. "If they are, you will simply have to repair them. Unless you would like Glorfindel to do it for you with twenty laps about the field?"

Elrohir's face twisted and he was about to reply, but then a bell pealed through the House and they both jumped for the door. "If we are late for dinner Adar will slay us," Elrohir said confidently as they dashed through the halls to skid to a halt before the doors of the Hall of Fire.

"But we are not late," Elladan said as they entered more calmly. "In fact, we are the only ones here."

They were not alone for long, though. In a matter of moments Calassë crept through the door, her face pallid and her lips bloodless. She clutched the table for support as she collapsed into a chair and gazed unseeingly at the twins.

"Calassë?" said Elladan uncertainly, reaching a little worriedly for the decanter of water on the side table.

"Did you eat something the wrong way?" he questioned considerately, pouring her a glass of water and unpeeling her fingers from the table to wrap her hand about it.

"Did you disturb Erestor in the midst of writing his memoirs?" asked Elrohir, rather interestedly. Elladan glared at his twin. His dormant sense of chivalry had been aroused.

Calassë shook her head numbly. "It is worse than that," she murmured hoarsely.

"I don't see how it could get any worse than annoying Erestor," said Elrohir under his breath, but his eyes were worried all the same.

"I knocked Lady Galadriel down," Calassë said in a strangely expressionless voice, and took a long gulp of water. "Straight to the floor. I think she may be unconscious."

Elladan bit his lip, feeling brotherly sympathy for her. "We can hide you in the cellars," he offered. "I am sure they will not look for you there."

"Elrohir," she whispered, groping about for his hand. "Put in a good word for us to your father, please. I am quite certain we are going to be banished."

Elrohir patted her hand like his father did to Celebrian when she was stressed. "It will be all right," he said comfortingly. "Your father is advisor to my adar. I am sure he will be lenient, although he may not find out about it at all."

"He was right there," Calassë moaned. "They all were. Your daeradar, your mother, and even Glorfindel. If my mother finds out I may have to flee to Harad."

"Of course you will not," Elladan interjected, fanning her with the decanter and accidentally splashing some onto her dress. "It was an accident. You apologised, didn't you?"

Calassë looked up at him incredulously, but at least her pallor had decreased. "How does one apologise to an unconscious body?"

"I suppose you say you are sorry, just like you would if she were conscious," Elrohir suggested helpfully. "It should not be that much different."

Their conversation broke off suddenly as the doors opened to admit a flood of Elves, and immediately the gloomy atmosphere brightened. Calassë's troubles seemed to fade as the laughter echoed through the long hall. She drank the rest of her water and stood up less shakily, but as soon as the guests arrived, led by Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian, she shrank behind the brothers.

"Be calm," Elrohir muttered under his breath. "Draw no attention to yourself."

"They will have forgotten about it," Elladan promised, more helpfully. His reassurance took effect, and Calassë slid out and stood between them, cringing a little as she met Galadriel's calm gaze from across the room. She watched as the Lady of Lórien turned and whispered something to her daughter, saw Celebrían's accommodating smile, and gazed on in horror as the Lady of Imladris led her mother towards them.

"Daernaneth," the twins gallantly greeted their grandmother as the two stopped before them. "May we introduce our friend Calassë?"

Calassë managed a weak little smile for Galadriel as the tall elleth's searching gaze turned upon her. "My lady, it is an honour."

"We have already met, though," said Galadriel with an answering smile. "Although rather informally, I must say."

"I hope you have not bruised," Calassë dared to say, feeling slightly little less like an assassin. "I am very sorry for hurting you."

"You did not," Galadriel assured her, and just as Calassë was beginning to feel confident she felt the brush of a powerful presence against her fëa. Eyes wide, she gazed up at the Lady, feeling as though her deepest thoughts had been laid bare. Another smile reassured her, and then Galadriel turned away towards her silver-haired husband.

"How does she do that?" she asked the twins in an undertone, watching in awe as Celebrían's mother moved effortlessly about the room.

"Read your mind, you mean?" Elrohir grimaced. "It is disconcerting, is it not? I do not think even Adar can stop her."

"I think it gives her some sort of pleasure to discover what people are thinking, especially when they do not know she is doing it," Elladan said, bemused. "You may not know it, but my grandmother's curiosity is simply insatiable."

Calassë stared up at him disbelievingly. "Curiosity is not a word I would associate with your grandmother," she said.

Elrohir took her arm and guided her towards the buffet, Elladan trailing behind. "Whenever she is around, I think happy thoughts," he said, grinning. "If I am lucky, she will go no further than that."

With the twins about her that evening, Calassë's spirits rose considerably, and the only thing that dampened her enthusiasm for the night was seeing Lord Elrond's uncharacteristically serious face. It brought back to her the reasons for the coming of the Galadhrim to Imladris, and biting her lip she turned to Elrohir.

"Do you think there is reason to be worried?" she asked quietly.

Elrohir raised his eyebrows. "About Daernaneth and Daeradar coming so suddenly? I do not think so." He glanced over at his parents and grandparents, who were deep in conversation with Glorfindel and Haldir, the seneschal of Lórien. "I think it very likely that it is only a problem of increased Orc raids in the mortal villages."

"Which means more patrols for us," Elladan put in from her other side.

Elrohir sighed. "Which means late nights..."

"... and kit rations..."

"... and no baths for a week..."


End file.
